Page 42 of Slow Burn

“Because you asked me to.”

Robby’s borrowed car matched her perfectly. Gray. Conservative. Not too new, not too old. Velvet slammed the door irritably and stared out the window at the church, where people were starting to straggle out. One of them was the guy who’d stared at her. He seemed to be looking for someone.

Robby hit the accelerator and Velvet closed her eyes, resting her head against the cold glass of the window.

She still smelled burnt flesh. It had all been a waste of time, after all. Burt’s ghost wasn’t going to be put in the ground by anything so simple as a funeral.

“I have to work,” Robby said. “I’m going by Jim’s. Where do you want me to drop you?”

So that’s how it was going to be. Dropped off at a corner, just like a street whore. Dumped with the clothes on her back and—luckily—the three hundred stuffed in her shirt. Well, that was no big deal. She’d call Ming. That was it, she’d call Ming, get set up with a couple of gigs—

The bruises. She’d have to explain the bruises.

“How come that guy knew me at the funeral?” she asked. “I’m sure I never saw him before.”

“Maybe a former customer?” Robby asked; she couldn’t quite keep the prissy tone out of her voice. “Somebody not very memorable?”

“Look, I don’t remember everybody, but if he remembered me that good, I’d remember him. He looked like I was a ghost or something.” Ghosts. Burt. Amy. Her mother’s distant sobs on the telephone. Velvet pressed her aching forehead to cold glass. “Robby?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever killed anybody?”

The car slewed gently right, then sharply left. She knew without looking that Robby had taken the opportunity for a good long look at her.

“No,” Robby answered cautiously. “No, I never have. Why?”

“I did.” Velvet opened her eyes. The car window was cloudy with her breath. “You know what? That guy looked guilty. Guilty as hell.”

Amy had looked so small in the coffin, skin pallid, face bloated. They’d tried to talk Mom out of an open casket, but she’d been so sure it was all right, so sure Amy would look just like a sleeping angel. It had all been so hard, so hard to sit there with the family and know everybody was staring, whispering, pointing.She’s the one, you know. She was there when it happened. She should have done something. All her fault.

Velvet gagged on the taste of Scotch and sperm in her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Robby asked. Velvet opened her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Sure,” she lied. “Hey, I got an idea. Know where Elegance Dry Cleaners is?”

“Which one?”

“Uh, the main one. The one in Highland Park.” That was a guess, but a good one. It was sure the priciest store in town, had the most blue-nosed customers. She’d probably find somebody to talk to there, somebody trustworthy. “Drop me there, okay?”

Whatever Robby thought about it, she said nothing, simply played taxi driver, turning down Mockingbird and onto Preston, winding into old money neighborhoods where every house had room for four cars and a Suburban for the maid. She slowed and parked in front of a discreet narrow storefront; gold script glittered in the windows, spelling out ELEGANCE DRY CLEANERS—LEATHERS AND SILKS A SPECIALTY. The sign on the frosted glass door read OPEN in small unencouraging script.

Velvet opened her door a couple of inches and looked over at Robby.

“Thanks,” she said. Robby nodded. Her eyes looked preoccupied, like she’d already put all this behind her.Well, fuck you, Velvet thought. Even in her mind, it sounded sad instead of angry.

She got out and watched Robby drive away.

Velvet hugged her elbows and shivered as she turned to face the glass door.I could find a bus stop, she thought. Wouldn’t be that long a wait.

No. She had to do this. Had to. She’d seen Burt’s kids, after all. She kind of owed him something.

She pushed open the door. A silver bell tinkled somewhere in the back, past a marble counter and plush green carpet.

A young highly toned woman with mercilessly stylish hair looked up, and the smile froze on her face.

“Can I—” Blue eyes swept up and down doubtfully. help you?”

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